By the time they entered the breakfast room, Bingley had made his own decisions. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, I would ask that you serve as master and hostess while my family and Mr. and Mrs. Wickham are at Netherfield Park. With the support of each other, I feel you would have no difficulty reminding either of my sisters of their place here as temporary guests. With that said, my carriage is being prepared for a long journey to the north. After a brief stop at Longbourn to discuss my plans with Miss Bennet, I will travel to Manchester to oversee the factories until I hear from you that they are gone. As master, you have the freedom to make the same decisions you would if this were Pemberley.”
“Bingley, I…”
“No, Darcy. I have decided on this. You will need the authority to keep Wickham in his place and protect your sister from whatever harm he intends. Caroline does not intimidate you. It is time my sisters learn to see themselves as the children of a tradesman rather than as theywant to be. My being in Manchester will be an inarguable reminder of their heritage, which may help them comprehend their true positions in society. At least, that is my hope.”
“I thank you, my friend.” The trust Bingley had in him humbled Darcy.
“I have already informed the butler and housekeeper that you will take charge of the estate, and Mrs. Darcy: the house. Use any of the monies coming in from the rest of the harvest to purchase whatever you need.” Bingley shuffled his feet. “You will move into the master’s and mistress’s suite, so neither Wickham nor my sisters can claim the best rooms for themselves.”
Darcy glanced at his wife. She barely nodded, signaling her support of Bingley’s decision.
Once Bingley departed, Darcy had a note delivered to his uncle, hoping the Matlocks were still at Meryton’s inn, asking that they rejoin them at Netherfield Park.
As he sealed the missive, Elizabeth conferred with the housekeeper and cook. Footmen returned the furniture to the position it was in prior to Caroline Bingley’s short time in the house. Darcy wanted all evidence that Bingley’s sisters had ever been in residence, even the few hours they were present, gone. Since they were now in charge, the estate needed to look like somethinghewould manage with the aid of his capable bride.
Parker unpacked a box of Darcy’s favorite books, placing a few randomly in the drawing room.
As he surveyed the area, Elizabeth leaned into the doorway. “Are you ready to play the lead role in our grand production?”
His heart warmed. “Come.” He extended his hand,which she readily accepted. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her. “You are the heroine of my dreams, Elizabeth Darcy.”
She cupped his face with her palm. “And you will forever be my hero.”
The butler interrupted their sweet moment.
“Sir, madam, Lord and Lady Matlock’s carriage is approaching, along with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Shall I have Mrs. Nicholls air out rooms for them?”
Elizabeth grinned. “Only the best.”
“Very good, Mrs. Darcy. What of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Mr. and Mrs. Wickham?”
Without hesitating, Darcy responded. “Put them in the guest wing.”
When the smirking butler stepped out of the room, Elizabeth said, “They shall not be happy, will they?” Her smile lit the room.
“Lord, I hope not.”
23
The elegance of Helen Fitzwilliam, Lady Matlock, reminded Elizabeth that, despite being married to a gentleman from the highest sphere, she had limited experience with society. Instead of frightening her, Elizabeth’s courage rose to the occasion. She appreciated the tacit support during the sensitive discussion. Lord Matlock glowered while Darcy paced. As they talked, it was the colonel who caught her attention. Pure, undiluted hatred shot from his eyes every time Wickham’s name was mentioned.
To distract him, she asked, “Pardon me, Colonel. How long has it been since you were last in Mrs. Wickham’s company?”
His response was immediate, his words clipped. “Pray call her Georgiana, Georgie, Poppet, or Imp. I refuse to believe she is married to that…to that brigand. The last name I would ever want her to bear is Wickham.”
“I shall heed your suggestion, sir.” Deciding how to diffuse the tension was challenging. “My husband toldme of your protective instincts. In this charged situation, it eases my mind to know that you stand with us instead of against us. Napoleon must quiver in his boots at the mere hint of your name.”
He scoffed while his parents laughed.
Finally, the colonel said, “Since you are the wife of my stoic cousin, I would ask you to call me Richard. As for Georgiana, she was barely thirteen when I left for the continent.”
“That explains much about your response to her new name,” Elizabeth said.
He sat forward in his chair. “What do you mean?”
“Two years ago, my youngest sister was the same age as when you last were in company with the former Miss Darcy. At the time, Lydia’s front teeth looked too big for her face. Her hair was always in disorder, and she had the nasty habit of biting her fingernails until they bled when she was upset or nervous. There would be no way you would look at her and see a potential bride. As you might have noticed when she attached herself to your arm at our wedding, she now looks like a grown woman, although her thoughts are filled with girlish dreams of happily ever after with a gentleman in a red coat.”
He slowly nodded. “In truth, I did not pay your sister much attention since she kept talking about her new blue bonnet and how handsome she found my uniform.”
